If It Could Have Been Anywhere But Here
by Dark ass
Summary: Voldemort gets sent back to his first year of Hogwarts. All alone. Or is he...? HPTR or HPLV however you look at it
1. Chapter 1

"Is he okay?"

"He's a mudblood. Was he ever okay?"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy. He's a Slytherin."

"I'll say whatever I want, Greengrass."

Lord Voldemort groaned softly. What was wrong with them? Why weren't they screaming in terror? It was the Last Battle for god's sake! Unless he…won? No, that couldn't be. Potter had fired the last spell at hem. But then why wasn't he dead…?

"What happened?" came a strangely familiar voice.

"We're not sure, Professor. One minute Riddle was sitting on the couch reading, the next thing we hear is this great 'bang' and he's on the floor unconscious."

He didn't listen to the rest. His splitting headache wouldn't allow him to. All he knew was that the strangely familiar voice said the word "Gryffindors" and what sounded like several rooms worth of people started screaming, yelling, and protesting. He couldn't take this!

"ALL OF YOU IMBECILES SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I CRUCIO THE LOT OF YOU!" he screamed through the deafening roars, his commanding voice amplified by magic. The room was dead silent, wherever it was. Except for one poor, stupid blond, who seemed to take it quite personally. "Think you can threaten me, Riddle? I'll have you know-"

"CRUCIO!" He yelled, already hating the half-wit, whoever he was. How dare he speak that name?

Agonizing screams rose up in the…Common Room? Voldemort blinked again. It was indeed the Slytherin Common Room, but that made no sense. I angered him greatly, causing the screams to raise a pitch higher. He hated not knowing. He looked at who was stupid enough to find themselves at the point of his wand and saw…Abraxas Malfoy? That wasn't right; he had died of Dragon Pox years ago. But definitely not looking like a third year. He ended the curse before he accidentally fried Malfoy's brains. He did, of course, know how to cure it, that's how he got Longbottom on his side, but why waste it on _him_?

He reminded himself that there were other people in the room. Where were his Death Eaters? He looked around and saw what he would have seen in his Hogwarts days. His first year Hogwarts days to be exact. Plus the fact that he had just Crucio'd someone right in front of them…

"M, M,Mr. Riddle!" came the absolutely appalled familiar voice from before. Standing in front of him was his old Head of House, Professor Slughorn. Something clicked in his mind. A flash of a spell. The only spell with red and green that pure mixed together.

"Obliviate!" he said calmly erasing Slughorn's memory of what had happened that night. He gave his best Tom Riddle glare (since he assumed that he was in that body as he had been recognized). His Lord Voldemort glare would have just looked silly, or so he had been told by some now-dead fool. The other Slytherins took the message of staying silent, as many of them had had to obliviate him on occasion.

He got to his feet just as the after-daze wore off of Slughorn. "Tom? I seem to be a bit woozy, can you quite remember what I should have been doing, my boy?" his face taking on a jovial expression for his favorite student.

"I believe you came here to check up on poor Abraxas's health. He hasn't been feeling well as of late," he lied smoothly, giving his disgusting Head a deceptively charming smile. "You have it all under control, but such a powerful spell must have worn you out after such a hard day of teaching," he continued on, checking the calendar in the corner to make sure that it was indeed a school day.

"Of course, of course!" He said chortling. "I remember now, my dear boy! Er, Black! Why don't you take him up to his dorm and get Mr. Malfoy to bed," He said, gesturing to a crumpled up Malfoy, "Well, good night Tom," he said, waddling his way to the entrance.

The moment Slughorn was gone the whole of the House of Slytherin turned to stare at him. Shit. He could have them all obliviated, but it would be unwise as those can be undone by anyone with the right power and knowledge. "If I hear a whisper of this got out, I will see to it that the whole house will be suitably, ah, _punished. _And believe me, _I will know._" He left them with that warning and turned to go up to his dorm and think about more pressing matters than the Slytherin gossip vine. If he was correct about the spell that was used (and he always was), then where was-

"POTTER!" he choked out as a pair of arms attempted to strangle him from behind. He heard a collective gasp from the Slytherins behind him. After struggling for a bit, his 11-year old body finally won over Potter's pathetic frame.

"Fuck you," Potter panted, glaring at him.

To the rest of the Slytherins' surprise, Tom smirked lazily at him and purred as well as he could at eleven and said, "Now, now, child, that wouldn't be appropriate at this age."

"Then damn you!" he spat, glaring _the_ glare of ultimate hatred.

He let out an amused chuckle and pulled Potter up.

"Where are we going? Do you Slytherins have a secret torture dungeon upstairs or something?" asked Potter, bewildered by the fact that he hadn't been AK'd yet.

Tom laughed mockingly, "Where _do _you get these ideas Potter?"

Potter shrugged, "There are a lot of rumors about the snake den."

"And you know what our Common Room looks like because…?

Potter gave him an annoying smirk, "Wouldn't you just love to know?" he said in his special-made Voldemort-taunting voice.

Tom growled and pushed him into a random wall, "_Open," _he hissed in Parsletongue. He walked through, dragging Potter of course, and sat down on one of the green couches in the small room.

"Where are we? Is this some secret lair you plotted in 50 years ago or something?" Potter asked, no tact as usual.

Tom calmly took out his wand, smiled sweetly at Harry and sent him flying into some ready-made shackles on the floor. They did their stuff and Tom waited for Harry to stop screaming. "Calm down Potter. You are in the 'snake den' after all," he laughed humorlessly. "That reminds me. Accio wand!"

"Fuck you," Potter growled as Tom casually caught it and absently twirled it as he had in his second year.

"Wait a few years and you might be a good enough bitch for me," Tom shot back maliciously.

"You are one sick and twisted man," Potter snarled.

"Not as twisted as some. YOU STUPID CHILD, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!?!" Tom screamed.

"I've found a way to defeat you. Just a piece of your hair cut in half that I already have…"

Tom stared. "Where on _earth _did you come up with that? You sound like Loony Lovegood from my generation. Though I've heard he managed to procreate."

"Don't talk about Luna's family like that!" Harry hissed, unknowingly in Parsletonge.

Tom's highly amused expression was giving Harry an apoplexy, so he decided to be kind and crush all his hopes. "Look Potter. See this hair I just pulled out of my head? And these scissors? Snip snip, and would you look at that! I'm still alive!" Tom laughed as Potter's hopes and dreams were suffocated, drowned, and steamrolled.

"But, but, Dumbledore said-"

"_But Dumbledore said_" he mocked in a baby voice, "Dumbledore says a lot of things you dolt. That particular spell you used, _parvulus vices _I believe, merely sent us both permanently back in time. Is he still your hero? The man who sentenced you to an eternity of either life or death with me?"

"Wait, what? Eternity? This is a way to kill you! I, I just need more hair!" Potter yelled, desperately defending his precious master in all but name.

Tom let out his Voldemort laugh, cold and high-pitched, "You fool. Dumbledore gave you a letter, did he not? Giving his younger self orders to kill either you or me. Oh yes, Potter. That is what it says. Did you think it was instructions to send you back?"

"It is! Read it now, it'll say just that!" He put forth nobly, nodding to an envelope on the floor that had flown out of his pocket.

Tom opened it and read aloud, "_Dear my younger self, we did not succeed as well as hoped. The only way to get the Order moved on as planned is by killing either Tom Riddle, whose purpose you will recall, or Harry Potter, the boy who was chosen to play hero that stands before you now. Killing one will kill the other, as I've sent him with _parvulus vices_, which will sentence them to eternity of either life or death. We cannot keep their threat in the way of our rise to power so do it quickly. Sincerely, Albus."_

Potter was stunned into silence. Tom almost felt bad for him. Almost being the key word. "Come Potter. If I'm to spend eternity with you, you may as well sleep in my dorm and I will take you to Dippet in the morning," he said gently.

Potter was too stunned to say anything or even give a feeble protest. Tom led him to his dormitory. He didn't feel like too much more magic tonight and locked everyone else out of the dorm and put Harry on his bed. Harry wordlessly nodded thanks to his arch enemy and fell asleep. Tom rolled his eyes at his naivety, and crawled in next to him. It was going to be a very long eternity.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke to a feeling of comfort and safety. What on earth…? He'd only come close to this feeling with Sirius, but still that didn't compare. He sighed contentedly and buried his face into the warmth. He might not know where he was, but to his sleep-impaired mind, it didn't matter, as it felt damn good.

He meowed, yes _meowed_, as warm fingers began massaging his neck, moving down to his back. God, this was Heaven. He purred with pleasure as the angelic fingers moved to his lower back. And lower, and lower…

He inhaled sharply and his eyes shot open. He was met with the sight of a smirking Tom Riddle. He stiffened, not knowing what to do.

Tom sighed dramatically, "And I just finished working those knots out. _Really_, Harry, you must stop stressing so much, it's bad for your health."

Harry snorted in amusement, "Yes, because attempted murder is the way to show you care," he grumbled, snatching the covers and rolling to the other side of the bed.

Tom cocked and eyebrow, "Not a morning person? Fine. You have until I'm done with the bathroom to grace the world with snores that could rival a Weasley." Harry absently wondered when Tom witnessed a sleeping Weasley before drifting back off to sleep.

* * *

"Gah!" Harry screamed as he was sent whooshing up to the cold, stone ceiling. He scowled as he heard Riddle laughing at his wake-up reaction. "What was that for?" Harry tried to yell in a disgruntled voice. Not an easy task when your face is smooshed into every crack of the thrice-damned ceiling.

"I did say that you had until I was done with the bathroom." Oh, he could just hear the smirk radiating off the sadistic bastard.

"Let me down! I'm going back to sleep!"

"Back to sleep?!? It's been three hours since I last woke you!"

"…"

"What?"

"YOU SPENT THREE BLOODY HOURS IN THERE? ARE YOU A GIRL IN DISGUISE?!?! IS YOUR REAL NAME TOMMELIA, MY LADY VOLDEMORT?!?!"

"Just because I chose not to present myself as a sex-ridden baboon does not mean I am of the female species, Potter," Tom hissed menacingly, clearly insulted. He slammed Harry back onto the bed and said, "Get your lazy ass into the shower. You will use _all _of the shampoos and _all_ of the conditioners. I refuse to go out in public with a filthy ragamuffin."

Harry huffed at that but walked into the bathroom, but not before slamming the door on the image-obsessed man, er, boy. He stopped dead in his tracks. Damn. How did the Slytherins end up with such a nice bathroom? _Sooooo _not fair. The Gryffindors pretty much had a small shower, sink, towel rack and toilet. Cramped, but useable. Apparently Godric Gryffindor wanted his students to live on the bare necessities. But not Salazar Slytherin. Oh, no, they not only had a huge shower, several vanities, private toilets, and a large bath, but they had a _jacuzzi_. _Sooooo _not fair.

He stripped and stepped into the shower. Jeesus Christ, they had six nozzles spraying you from all sides! They certainly didn't live without the comforts of home. They even had shelves for each individuals', er, beauty products. He sighed and walked down the line until he reached Tom Riddle's shelves. He stared. Five shampoos. Six conditioners.

"I'm trapped for an eternity with a pussy-man," he whispered in horror.

* * *

Tom conjured up an armchair and absentmindedly began to buff and file his nails. Yes, it was true. Lord Voldemort was quite vain and damn proud of it. He had been devastated when he could not find a potion, ritual, charm, _anything _to restore his former dark beauty. That had been at the top of the list, right next to bringing order to the chaotic mess that called itself the Wizarding World.

That bought him to his next thoughts. What was he going to do? For that matter, what was Potter going to do? They could stay here and create a new life for everyone. That way he would know enemy tactics before hand, but he wasn't sure he wanted another war. After all, hadn't he been trying to strengthen and unite the Wizarding World as a whole?

That left him to consider his other option. He could bend Potter to his will, and perhaps try and find a way around the spell. Power was not an issue, and let's face it, he was the most brilliant wizard alive, he had literally gotten away with murder right under the nose of Dumbledore at age 16. If they were to find a way around the spell then they would have Merlin's Theory of Temporary Time Travel to consider, which claimed that if you traveled back too far, or something completely different from the original timeline were to happen, time simply wouldn't retain it. If it were meant to happen, it already would have. So taking into account the 55-year length and the Potter Factor, it was fairly safe to say that they could do anything they wanted, and no one would remember. He heard the sounds of Potter's shower turn of. 'Ah, well. It's not like I have to make a decision right away. I can still have some fun.'

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!?!?!"

My, Potter has quite the set of lungs on him. Tom sighed, got up and vanished the armchair. He opened the door and stared. He was speechless. When his throat began to work once again, he laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. He laughed so hard he was brought to tears.

Potter looked like an aristocratic girl. A pretty one at that, with pointy little ears. Of course, he was lacking in the 'fun parts', still being male, but he was a sight for sore eyes. Though some said they had looked similar before, now it was more defined. His hair had grown to the floor from the extra conditioner he had slipped in there. Well, technically it was meant to be a restorative, but apparently nothing was 'meant to be' with Potter. His features were now pale and delicate, though he would still be able to play Quidditch. The pointy ears were a mystery. Well, everything was unexpected, but hey, Potter looked the better for it.

"Ow!" Tom's laughter abruptly stopped as he was hit with a bar of…soap? "DAMN IT POTTER!" as more cleansing products were thrown at his head. Furiously he grabbed a bottle of Mrs. Waffleburger's Whitening mouthWash and chucked it at his feminine little head.

They must have spent a good 45 minutes in their private little bathroom war. It was not wasted. Shampoos sent flying hazardously, wet towels strategically snapped, missed conditioner slathered on the walls, chunks of soap littered everywhere, unrecognizable debris hanging off the ceiling, nothing escaping their wrath.

The madness finally stopped when Potter paused before snapping the final blow by way of wet towel, "No, seriously, what the hell did you do?"

"I put a Restorative Potion in that last conditioner, you blondshit!" Tom cried, exasperated with Potter's stupidity.

Potter blinked, "Oh."

"'Oh', he says," Tom muttered scathingly as he performed a couple of well-placed cleaning charms. Yes, it was best not to let the houselves see this, fanatic little buggers they are.

"There you go, _Princess_. Now go get dressed and dry your hair. Unless you prefer to let it air dry?"

"Funny, _Pumpkin_. Just what am I supposed to get dressed _in_? My only robes seem to be bloodstained and ripped from chains for some strange reason…"

"Play nice, _Cupcake_. You can wear some of mine. I'll adjust them to your girly frame."

"Shut up, Twinkie."

"Meatloaf."

Potter blinked, "What's good about meatloaf?"

Tom smoothly raised an eyebrow, "What's good about a chemically–damned lump of fat?"

"I dunno, the little girl on the front is kind of cute."

"That's Little Debbie, stupid," Tom fired back, feeling his almost non-existent inner child coming through. "Twinkies come from Hostess."

"They could come from Little Debbie too!"

"Oh? How does your ingenious, brilliant, mind come up with that?"

"They both make the brown cupcakes with the loopy white frosting on top!"

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"Yes it does!"

"Uh ah!"

"Yuh hah!

Tom realized he was arguing with no class and almost Crucio'd himself, "I refuse to act like a preschooler!"

"Fine!" Potter snapped and stormed out the door.

As Tom turned around to get scissors for Potter's ridiculous hair, he stopped in dead in his tracks. "Did I just argue with Potter about muggle sweets?"

* * *

Harry was fumbling with the huge robes, all the while muttering obscenities under his breath. He did not sound like a preschooler! Of all the nerve…. As he tried to tie the blasted thing he contemplated the wisdom of arguing about Twinkies with Lord Voldemort. Okay, so there was no wisdom in it whatsoever. He wasn't dead or in Dumbledore's hands so it was all good, right? RIGHT? Hm, Dumbledore.

Harry took a few moments to gather his thoughts about the traitor geezer. He came up with: Wutta bitch. That's right. He wasn't gonna be no damned Golden Boy anymore! If anything he was going to bring him down. Well, there was Ron and Hermione to consider, but it wasn't that big of a loss. Ron's old jealousy had reemerged twice as bad, though he tried to hide it. And to tell the truth, Hermione had gotten annoying in seventh year. It was none of her business how well he was sleeping! The nightmares had gone, only to be replaced by ones of her and her man-devouring hair and teeth that could easily get her a beaver chick.

He stumbled into the bathroom, wondering how all those king guys did the whole sweeping robe gig. Tom was idly examining his fingernails, as if it had been hours or something. Wait, were those green streaks in his hair? He hadn't noticed earlier. Well, at least he had house pride.

Tom stood up and gave Harry an evil look before telling him to sit in the stool. Harry nervously complied, all of the sudden wondering if Voldie was just going to end it now with those metal things that were neatly stored on the desk. Some of them looked lethal….

"Don't move Potter." The man had such a way with words.

Tom removed from his pocket some different scissors, and gave the pieces of…foil? On the vanity some calculating looks. "Right. Potter, you WILL get into Slytherin, you would have been before if it weren't for Lucius's idiot child. I don't trust you, and you don't trust me, but you can trust me with your hair."

Harry blinked. "My…hair? Yes it needs a cut but why don't we just do a severing charm or something? Why do _you _have to do it?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "The Slytherin Hierarchy will see it as me bringing you in, thus making you my responsibility. And I absolutely refuse to be responsible for a kid who looks like a street rat! And a severing charm would give you split ends! Do you know nothing of hair?!?!"

Harry froze. That reminded him… "Uh, about that, where am I staying?"

"We'll figure it out later. For now just shut up and don't move!" Comforting, really.

Tom began to take his hair in hand, "Wait! What if I don't like the haircut! You're not a stylist, you're a Dark Lord who has this sort of stuff done for you!"

Tom sighed, "Stupefy"

God damnit. He should've known he'd have no choice. Really, the guy needed to lighten up sometimes and not be such a control freak. A good looking control freak…. He tried to scream in shock as a lot of hair was brutally chopped and massacred off! Well, at least in his mind. He watched helplessly as parts of his hair was put into little foil thingies. And what the fuck was that creamy stuff? It looked more like some sort of foreign salad dressing than hair…stuff.

Tom started laughing, "Articulate, Potter. This 'stuff', I can assure you, is not salad dressing."

Harry's cheeks heated slightly. That bastard shouldn't be in his mind! The not-salad-dressing was rinsed out to reveal…nothing. What the hell?

"It's still wet, dumbass. You'll see in a second."

Harry tried to glare, but it was kind of hard when everything was pretty much frozen. After Tom dried his hair, man that sounded weird, he saw green streaks. He felt himself released from the stupefy and jumped up to see what new lengths of evil Voldemort would go through with his hair just to torture him. He turned around and saw that his hair was a little below his shoulders, sort of going down unevenly but not…. it was uh, what was that word Parvati used, tapered! Yes, tapered! But not all sharp and icky. It was…uh, subtle. Wow, where did all this vocabulary come from?

Tom started laughing again. "GET OUT OF MY MIND!" was all that was needed to reduce him to nearly silent snickering. Now where was I. Ah, yes, Harry now had emo bangs, and green streaks. That just about sums it up. Shorter version: HOT.

"Wait, you gave me _emo _bangs! I'm not emo!"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Like anyone will know what that means here. Not even the muggleborns of this age will, so stop complaining."

"Why do we both have green streaks?"

"Because every guardian and their kid have something physical in common!"

"Oh. Why hair?"

"Because Malfoy started it in third year. I want to get one up on the bastard."

"I thought you liked the Malfoys?"

"Only Lucius and his son when they're bowing down."

"And bowing makes it all better?!?!"

"YES. Merlin, Potter, do you ever run out of questions?"

"Nope. It's why I'm still alive."

"It'll be why you die too," Tom muttered. Tom walked out the door and disappeared around the corner. Harry stared. Now what? He heard Tom shuffle aback into the doorway. "Well?"

"Well what?" asked Harry, confused.

Tom rolled his eyes, "Are coming?"

"Coming where?"

"To the headmaster you dolt!"

"Oh, right, yeah," said Harry sheepishly, following Tom out of the dorm. They opened the door to a rather…_unusual _sight. The other Slytherin first years were just laying there, eyes wide open and bloodshot, hair disheveled, and not the good way, to put it simply, they looked like shit. He decided that acting like a Gryffindor would not be a good thing, and he didn't want to be Malfoy, so he decided to emulate Tom and throw them scathing, cold looks. Which, to his surprise, actually felt good.

Tom must have seen because he gave Harry an amused little smirk once they were past them. They reached the Common Room where people looked up from either homework or other normal activities. Silence reigned supreme. Harry and Tom, somehow thinking the same thing, took on a superior aura, looking down haughtily at the other Slytherins. Tom smoothly raised his eyebrow, "Well? Get on with it."

One of the second years stepped forward. "Uh, sir, what is your…_companion's _status among us?"

Tom didn't even spare her a glance as he said, "You will treat him as you would me. Anyone who does otherwise shall find themselves at the end of my wand." Some of the usually impassive Slytherins shivered, including some seventh years. They both walked out of the Common Room and made their way to the Headmaster's office. They put on smiling facades when teachers walked by, all giving Tom favored smiles, and throwing Harry curious looks.

They reached the office. "Narcissistic Bullfrog." Harry threw Tom a startled look. Tom merely shrugged and motioned to follow him.

* * *

Time to play model student. Tom dearly hoped Potter would continue the little game of 'emulate Tom'. It was rather amusing and useful. He knocked on the Headmaster's door before politely waiting for the "Enter."

He opened the door with the 'genuine' smile that had made everyone melt. "Ah, Tom! How good to see you, dear boy! May I ask who you've brought with you?" Dippet, the trusting fool asked with the usual favored tone.

Tom smiled nervously and said, "Well Headmaster, this is-"

"Aamir Santino Morte. Pleased to meet you sir," Harry stepped forward with a charming smile on his face.

Dippet, who was a Hufflepuff back in the day, saw this as a good gesture.

"I believe he supposed to arrive at the front gates, but his portkey was, _hastily _made and was sent to the Common Room," Tom cautiously said, thinking all the while, 'Potter, you had better keep up with this story.'

"Oh? Why is he not in school?" Dippet asked curiously, noticing that he was Tom's age.

"That's just it, sir," Tom said, seeming to become more confident, "his parents sent him here during a run-in with the Dark Lord."

Dippet gasped, 'Oh, the poor child!', "Do you need anywhere to stay, Aamir? Hogwarts is always open to young refugees," he said with a sympathetic smile.

"Yes, I was wondering if I could come to school?" he asked tentatively, as if wondering whether it was rude to ask such a thing.

"Of course, dear boy!" taking an immediate liking for the boy. "Do you need money for the supplies?"

Tom decided it was time to communicate with Potter, 'Potter, say no, your parents left you a large sum of money.' He felt Potter's confusion through the link, but none showed on his face.

Potter (actually I should call him Aamir now, Tom mused) shook his head, "My parents left me a Gringotts vault."

"So you are Pureblood?" asked Dippet, rather interested in the polite young boy who had made in obvious friend in their most promising student.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, sudden inspiration striking him, "we know each other from when we were younger. My family would often go to London for business, and let me play with some of the kids every once in a while. Of course, I never knew Tom was a wizard," He said looking sad at the mention of his 'family' and sharing a 'remembrance' smile with Tom. Damn, he was good.

Dippet fell for it hook, line, and sinker, "Well, as you may or may not know, Hogwarts has four Houses; Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. For the ambitious, brave, intelligent, and loyal respectively. We shall sort you and get you to your respective dorm then," he said with a gentle smile on his face. This was too easy. They hadn't even had to procure official documents! Well, not yet. Dumbledore would want to know exactly who this new student was.

"How do I get sorted sir?" Aamir asked with an innocently confused look on his face.

"All you have to do is try on this hat!" Dippet beamed before shoving it on Aamir's head. Tom decided to see what they were saying.

'Hm. And who are you? You're no Aamir, well, you weren't anyways. I see you have every intention of keeping that name. Well, Mr. Riddle, thank you so much for joining us.' Tom almost blinked in surprise. 'Oh, yes, I know you're there. Like I said, you have the cunning of Salazar himself. Now where was I…? Right. Mr. Potter, you seem to be past seventh year level and were in training with Dumbledore. Oh dear, time travel's never a good answer. Ah, well, bravery you have in spades, though only when the situation calls for it. Yes, you have learned much in your life. Loyalty you have but to no one but yourself and one other, and such devotion it is, though you do not realize.'

'I don't remember it taking quite this long last time,' Aamir thought back.

'Yes, but eleven year olds don't have much of a personality to uncover. They're usually very straightforward about it. Now quit interrupting me! There is no lack of intelligence in your mind, though you would not study obsessively just to become a librarian or some such. As for ambition and cunning, yes, well, I know where to put you, which is in' "SLYTHERIN"

Dippet smiled as the two 'old friends' exchanged excited smiles. "Mr. Riddle, as today is Saturday and I'm sure you have your work done, would you mind accompanying our new student to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

Tom seemed to be bouncing up and down, "Of course, sir! Can I show him around?"

Dippet was ecstatic that his favorite student was so happy. "Of course, Tom! I have a staff meeting to get to now, but my door is open to both of you!" he proclaimed with a genuine smile.

"Good day, Headmaster!" they chimed in unison and stepped out of the office, trading smirks when their backs were turned.

**A/N: Yeah, this should have been done AGES ago, but NO my female legal guardian decided that this was the summer to reconnect with my dad's family. NEVER MIND the insignificant fact that they're all a bunch of hermits who's kids think that a sixty-year-old pervert checking them out is normal! Okay, I'm done ranting. I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but it will be somewhat soon. ******** thx for all the reviews!**


	3. Random Fill In Do not take seriously

Aamir turned angrily on his side, his back facing Voldemort's hissing form. ("Don't you turn your back on me, Potter!") Honestly, what an ass. It had been a nice bed, damnit.

Flashback

Harry stood gobsmacked at the door. He had a King-sized bed! Yes damnit! After acting so very…Slytherin, he needed to indulge his Gryffindor side. He was still Harry wasn't he?

_He let out a childish whoop and ran with full force and jumped on the lovely gift from heaven. It had soft comforters, silky sheets, goose feather pillows…it was everything he ever wanted in a bed…_

_Tom Riddle strutted in with an arrogant look on his face. He looked at Harry's bed with disdain. "Potter."_

_Harry glared at the fool for not showing the proper respect for the bed. "Riddle," he hissed, suddenly feeling very protective of his bed._

_"Why are you on THAT? You will be sleeping in my bed of course."_

_Harry looked over, not even noticing that all of the other beds seemed to have disappeared. There was Riddle's Normally Normallish Slytherin Dorm Bed. But why would Harry sleep in that when he had THIS lovely angel? "I think not," smirked Harry. "Though if you are really that sore about me having a better bed than you, I suppose you could share with me sometime…" _

_"No! I could never betray my dear, sweet bed! To commit such a crime would be reason enough to send me to the gallows!" Tom cried valiantly. "Your bed has nothing on mine! Do you hear me? NOTHINGGGGGGG!!!!"_

_This enraged Harry. His former bliss replaced with righteous thoughts of revenge, he pointed his wand at Riddle's bed and transfigured it into a Blast-Ended Skrewt._

_Riddle gasped, and he slowly turned even paler from anger. "You'll pay for that Potter! Attack him Doug! Attack!"_

_ The former bed made it's way to Harry and began blasting away at his prized bed. "NOOOO!!!!" Harry shrieked. "Why?!?! What did I ever do to deserve such a fate…alone, king bedless???" Tears pouring down his face, he wondered if he could even go on, or should he just end it all now? He looked up to see Voldemort laughing maniacally and happily tossing hexes and curses on the ruin of his beloved bed._

_"No! I won't let you!" Harry screamed._

_A voice seemed to penetrate his consciousness as he tried to throttle Riddle. "Potter! What the hell are you doing! It's over! Wake up you demented fool!" _

_He opened his eyes that he had never known were closed to see himself pretty much hugging Tom Riddle…in bed…_

End flashback

* * *

As Potter turned away from him he wondered what had possessed Potter to dream of…whatever that madness had been. For madness it was, who would even dare to imagine Lord Voldemort naming his bed Doug? With a death glare to Potter promising interrogation in the morning, he grumbled something about 'bloody heroes all being touched in the head' and sank back into the covers, waiting for a hopefully undisturbed sleep to come again.

**A/N: Yes, this is just sort of a random fill in…this is what happens when I get into the Trix Yogurt and stay up too late…The real chapter is coming, I just have to work out a couple of kinks. Oh, and I will be calling him Aamir, and while he THINKS he'll never look back, how often does that work out? He still dreams of himself as Harry Potter. So until maybe tomorrow, a couple of days…no more than that I swear, cheers.**


End file.
